


Feeling Alive

by J_E_McCormick



Series: The Strange Case Of Dr. Combeferre And M. Montparnasse [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Jekyll and Hyde AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_E_McCormick/pseuds/J_E_McCormick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am a changed man. I have no inhibitions. I feel so alive. For once I feel free.</p><p>I am no longer Dr Combeferre, confined by the judgments of society and my own doubts.</p><p>I am Montparnasse, and I am truly alive at last.</p><p>[Jekyll and Hyde AU, wherein Combeferre is Jekyll, and Montparnasse is Hyde]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling Alive

**Author's Note:**

> An accompaniment to the first part - the first time Montparnasse takes over.

He comes to, groaning softly as he stretches out aching limbs. He pushes himself up, off the floor of the laboratory, running a hand back through his hair and not bothering to brush it from his eyes when it falls forwards. He is different, somehow, though he cannot yet place how. He leans heavily on his desk to recover himself.

His thoughts run free through his mind, and as the minutes pass, he pinpoints what is different.

There is nothing stopping him.

He is so used to being halted, being pushed away, being hidden – behind politeness, behind goodness, behind morals. Every thought of anger cast away, every lustful desire masked, violence tampered down and silenced. He has never taken what he wants without second thought, has never been free of his other half telling him that he is wrong, sinful, evil, something to be stopped and erased.

But now he is, and it is liberating.

He casts his gaze over the desk, seizing the pen and scribbling his thoughts down.

_This feeling… so strange. So new._

_I am a changed man. I have no inhibitions. I feel so alive. For once I feel free._

He laughs – at first just a small chuckle, but soon growing into a full-body laugh. The sound is dark, far from a sound of amusement; rather, it is triumph, a revelation, formulating plots and the utter joy of a man revelling in his own potential for cruelty. He has power now that he’s never had before; a total freedom he has never even imagined. The world is his to take – with his reservations gone, nothing can stop him from taking what he wants, doing what he likes. He can indulge his lusts, for violence, for cruelty, for revenge, for pleasure. He could kill any man who crosses his path. He could steal any jewel that takes his fancy. He could take whores to his bed and feel no shame.

He could tear down Heaven itself, such is the power he feels in this freedom.

He touches the pen to the notebook again, leaving a last hasty scrawl before pacing eagerly from the laboratory.

_I am alive at last._

~~::.::~~

The night air is cool and fresh against his face as he steps out into the street. It is dark, only the faint light of streetlamps and the moon’s glow through the clouds lighting the darkness. Paris is nearly deserted this time of night – the only people out are the criminals and the prostitutes. He grins widely, feeling at home in the shadows, shrouded in his heavy coat and the black of the night.

He creeps through the narrow alleyways, where the light of the streetlamps doesn’t reach. Occasionally he catches a glimpse of the night’s other creatures – a boy, darting down a passage and out of sight; a gang, talking together in hushed tones. His heart pumps warm blood through his veins, heated by the thought of his freedom. The sounds of Paris’ dusk-hidden secrets wash over him; the air smells of sin, and he can almost taste the metallic tang of blood in it, trickling over his tongue and down his throat.

This is his world and he rejoices in it. He savours every sight, smell and sound, every thought that crosses his mind untampered.

It is some time into his wandering that he sees a woman, her clothing tattered and revealing, her skirts hiked up and showing the skin of her legs. It rouses a primal urge within him and he grins, having no shame to hold him back. He strides over to her, the power of his presence alone seeming to pin her to the wall against which she had been leaning.

“What is your price?” He asks, voice low and dark.

“Only a few sous, sir, and worth it.” The woman replies. He grins, stepping even closer, reaching out and gripping onto her, touch harsh and uncaring.

“I should think so.” He chuckles, and spins her around.

“What is your name, Monsieur?” The woman asks him, braced against the wall and waiting as he frees himself of his clothes. The question gives him pause – the name of Combeferre does not fit him, the name that of his suppressor and seeming distant from his new self. His gaze catches briefly on a street sign, just outside the alley they are in, and he grins.

“You may call me Montparnasse.” He tells the woman, and conversation stops there.

~~::.::~~

He is not gentle, or tender – he takes his pleasure from the girl without a thought for her, and when he is done with her he tosses the money at her feet, laughing as he walks away. He turns back towards home, starting to feel weary and tired. The night and its euphoria have drained him, and he is staggering by the time he reaches his doorstep. He hurries back to the laboratory, casting off his coat and hat carelessly.

His head hurts, the pain throbbing behind his eyes, but he hastens to his desk to scribble down his thoughts.

_I found myself tonight._

_The alleys and shadows revealed to me who I am. I am no longer Dr Combeferre, confined by the judgments of society and my own doubts. I am a new man tonight. I am free, finally free._

_I am Montparnasse, and I am truly alive at last._

He smiles widely as he sets down his pen, triumphant and liberated. Tonight he has proved to himself his freedom; tonight, he has recreated himself.

He collapses down into the chair, rubbing a hand over his eyes and through his hair, as if to push away the headache. He grins, chuckles to himself as he lets himself go lax, and as his consciousness slips away to a heavy darkness, he rejoices once more.

**Author's Note:**

> As before, any and all feedback is very much appreciated!! Just a little comment or crit means a lot :)


End file.
